


Two Thousand Miles (I'll Be home For Christmas)

by katmarajade



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Airline AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Holidays, I'll Be Home For Christmas, M/M, Multi, Pilots, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:30:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katmarajade/pseuds/katmarajade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Airline pilot Hikaru Sulu winds up stranded in Iowa on Christmas Eve. Determined to get back to Pavel, his journey home is a long, crazy one filled with interesting characters, run ins with old friends, and many surprises. No matter what, Hikaru is going to make it home for Christmas this year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Thousand Miles (I'll Be home For Christmas)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starsandgraces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgraces/gifts).



> I started this last year as one of my holiday drabbly bits for a friend who asked me to write the story that I really wanted to write. A year later, I finally finished that fic. Modern Airline AU featuring Chekov/Sulu and a big, crazy cast; a realistic portrayal of airline crews and planes; and a long, convoluted quest to get home for Christmas. I'm delighted with it. [](http://starsandgraces.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://starsandgraces.livejournal.com/)**starsandgraces** , this one's for you.

Hikaru greased the plane onto the runway, deployed the thrust reversers, and applied firm, steady pressure to the brakes. Ever cool under pressure, Hikaru's landing was a thing of beauty even with the flashing red lights and incessant chiming of the warning messages from the aircraft computer. The airplane slowed and Hikaru gave the brakes a final tap as they neared the turn off onto the taxiway, then transferred controls over to the captain. Jim steered them off the active taxiways into the holding area as instructed by ground control.

"Damn it!" muttered Jim as they came to a stop. He and Hikaru both let out mutual sighs of frustration. The last thing either of them wanted was a flaps fail on their last flight of a five-day trip on Christmas Eve.

Hikaru bit back his urge to curse the plane, the fates, the day, the weather, the passengers—anything that possibly could be to blame. He pulled out the appropriate checklists and they completed them, a rapid-fire litany of clipped calls and responses, button pushing, and lever toggling.

"Engine shutdown list complete," bit out Hikaru.

"Fucking flaps fail over Sioux City!" Jim slammed his hand against the yoke in frustration, not hard enough to do any damage but enough to express his displeasure. They'd gotten the warning message about an hour and a half into their flight between Detroit and San Francisco, which had forced them to divert. There were only a small number of nearby airports that had runways long enough to accommodate a high speed, zero flaps landing. The flaps were retractable sections on the back of the wing, which when extended, increased the surface area of the wing and therefore allowed the aircraft to maintain lift even at the slower speeds used for normal, controlled approaches and landings.

"You want to call the flight attendants or should I?"

"You call them. Ops says Ground will have a hardstand over here to deplane in a few minutes. We're not going anywhere any time soon. I'll be on the phone with Maintenance Control confirming our status as royally fucked for Christmas." Jim savagely hit #2 on his speed dial and Hikaru called back to the cabin.

"So, what's the official company line?" asked Nyota when she picked up the receiver. Hikaru could practically hear the practiced fake smile on her face.

"Flaps fail. We're not going anywhere. Sounds like a good time for _Bah Humbug_! Don't you think?"

"I would have gone with something slightly stronger, but yes, indeed."

"How are the peeps? Do they look homicidal yet or did we scare them into shutting up with that emergency descent?"

"A bit shaken up but the annoyance is beginning to overtake the worry. Lots of grousing back here. They are understandably displeased."

"Copy that," sighed Hikaru. "Call you back when we get more details. Good luck back there. Call us if they start throwing punches."

"Will do," Nyota said and hung up the interphone.

Jim was still on the phone with Maintenance, so Hikaru took a moment to turn his phone back on. He texted his boyfriend, Pavel, who was back home in San Francisco, expecting him home in about four hours.

_SNAFU—had to divert to Nowheresville, Iowa. Plane grounded … idek_

_No! Make them fix it! You need to be home for Christmas—I've got great plans for us!_ Pavel texted back with his typical complete sentences and proper punctuation. Hikaru's heart sank at the desperate tone in Pavel's response. This job sucked when it came to having personal relationships outside of work. Hikaru worked long, crazy hours and every single holiday. He'd already missed Pavel's birthday, Pavel's father's sixtieth birthday party, Easter brunch, the Fourth of July picnic, the birth of both his nieces, the couples' Halloween party that Pavel had his heart so set on … and now this. He was amazed that Pavel had put up with him this long. Hikaru was sure that if flying airplanes wasn't his lifelong dream and that he wanted it more than anything, that Pavel would have asked him to stop.

Hikaru would have asked to stop himself, but he knew that this was the only way to get where he wanted to be. He had to do this if he wanted to make it in the airlines. He had to give them his body and soul until he was a broken shell of a man … and one day it would pay off! One day he would have _Seniority_ , that beautiful, blessed, wondrous thing for which every airline employee yearns. The life of a pilot (or flight attendant) with seniority was a sweet sort of world. They got to pick the best trips with exotic layovers and were paid handsomely for the privilege. Hikaru figured that realistically he would be old and gray by the time he ever achieved such a lifestyle, but it still called to him and he wanted it. He really wanted it. The status, the thrill, the respect … it was a desperate grasping for a romantic era that was already long gone, but he couldn't help but reach for it all the same. Pavel knew that, knew just how much Hikaru longed for this and how much he'd worked towards this. He hadn't complained too bitterly over the past year, despite having lived with a near stranger who was only home long enough to do laundry and pack for his next trip. But this was the breaking point and Hikaru knew it; he had to get home for Christmas, if it was the last thing he did.

Jim hung up the phone and gave the expected answer—they were stuck. The plane wasn't going anywhere until a mechanic could come in to wire the flaps into a fixed position so the bird could be ferried to one of the Enterprise Airline Maintenance Hangars for repairs. There was nothing to be done here in Sioux City, Iowa, the unhappy city that they'd landed in. The passengers were officially screwed, because there weren't even any flights out of this airport, which meant that the company would be sending a bus to ship all 115 irate customers to a nearby airline hub. After a brief conversation with operations, Jim confirmed that the passengers would be bussed to Minneapolis, the nearest feasible hub airport, five hours away by bus. Hikaru groaned; the passengers were going to be pissed. Hell, _he_ was pissed! This was the last thing he wanted on Christmas Eve.

Jim and Hikaru threw down a fierce game of rock, paper, scissors to decide which of them had to stand outside the cockpit and say _Thank you! Happy Holidays! So sorry about this!_ to an entire plane full of people who might not get home for Christmas now, thanks to the whimsical wings of Enterprise aircraft E1701A. Hikaru won with rock over scissors and listened to Jim and Nyota's forced apologetic cheer for a few minutes before going outside to do the walk-around, making sure everything was still in order outside the aircraft. It was, except for the flaps, which were in the wrong position. It made Hikaru feel slightly better to see that they were being screwed over because of a genuine issue with the plane and not just a computer glitch, which was an all-too-common occurrence. They'd made the right call in diverting; they'd kept their passengers safe, even if they had managed to leave them stranded in the middle of nowhere in the process.

After the last passenger deplaned, a frazzled young mother with a screaming infant, the whole crew groaned and the cursing began in earnest.

"What the hell happened, Jim? Can't you fly a fucking plane?" Christine said bitterly. She knew, of course, that Jim had made the right call, the tough call, but with the old _the captain is always right_ adage came the coinciding _the captain is always to blame_ school of thought.

"Hikaru's landing—blame him," said Jim with a tired laugh.

"So, what do we do now?"

"Scheduling is trying to find us hotel rooms. There are no flights out of this place and they can't get us positive space seats until tomorrow. Even then, we'd have to bus out with the passengers. Who wants to spend five hours on a Greyhound with a group of a hundred disserviced passengers? That's what I thought."

"So we're waiting for a mechanic and taking the ferry flight out of here?" Hikaru asked.

"That seems to be the tentative plan, but technically we're scheduled to be released in four hours. They can't add two full days to our schedule—it's against policy. So really, if you want to find your own way out of here, you can. I think I'm going to be a big, strong manly man and call my mommy," said Jim with a wry smile. "She lives about two hours from here and I'm hoping she'll be willing to come get me. At least I get a decent holiday out of this screw up that way. If anyone wants to join in, they're seriously more than welcome."

Two of the flight attendants, Gaila and Christine, took him up on his offer. Hikaru glanced over at Nyota, who was on the phone with her husband. She nodded at him and he knew that she was having Spock, who knew all the ins and outs of the industry, look into every possible way to get back to San Francisco. He'd follow her.

She hung up the phone and turned to Hikaru. "Well, the options suck. Our best and possibly only bet is to rent a car and get to Omaha, which is 92.5 miles from here, according to my detail-obsessed husband. There's a direct to SFO that leaves at 1400. So we've got … yeah, no time."

"Scram," said Jim. "Get the hell out of here. We're officially released and I'm doing my captainly duty and telling you to go home. I'll put her to bed, Hikaru."

Hikaru and Nyota didn't need to be told twice. They dashed to the closets where their black bags were stored, yanked them out, and began the standard flight crew power walk down the steps, across the ramp, and into the terminal.

They managed to avoid most of the passengers who were still milling around in the tiny lobby, both making concerted efforts not to make eye contact with the few who were trying to stare them down. Perhaps it looked bad for them to be running like this, but Hikaru didn't even care at this point. He wanted to go home to Pavel, poor, sweet, insanely patient and understanding Pavel.

The man who worked at the car rental stand looked stunned at the sudden influx of customers. Miraculously, (and Hikaru still had no idea how) Nyota talked the man into renting her his last car.

"But it's broken," he kept saying.

"Give me five minutes under the hood. If we can fix it, we get 20% off, deal?"

The man nodded mutely, clearly not used to gorgeous, confident women bossing him around. Hikaru had to laugh at the dazed expression on the man's face—Nyota had that effect on a lot of people. She was already on her phone.

"Gaila, we need you down here, pronto." The request was polite enough, but Gaila obviously understood the underlying urgency and they saw the redhead skip outside two minutes later. In her high heels and shorter-than-company-approved skirt, Gaila definitely didn't look the part of seasoned auto mechanic, and the rental car man looked doubtful. Nyota and Hikaru merely stepped back and let Gaila pop the hood and get to work. Gaila used to work as an airline mechanic but she'd gotten bored with the one city lifestyle and had become a flight attendant instead. She still fixed planes, trains, and automobiles in her spare time and had jokingly referred to herself as somewhat of a mechanical genius. It was actually a pity her certs were long expired, because she certainly could have helped them out with the now grounded airplane if she'd been legal. But no one other than certified airline mechanics was allowed to work on commercial aircraft.

"All done," she chirped about four minutes later. The rental car man gaped as Nyota handed him the signed papers, grabbed the keys and threw her bag in the trunk.

"Hurry up, Sulu—we're wasting daylight. Thanks, Gaila—I owe you one! Have fun meeting Jim's mom!" Gaila giggled and Hikaru rightly assumed he was missing some sort of inside joke. Having three sisters, he was all too familiar with that dilemma and chose to finish loading the bags.

"Do you want me to dri …" Hikaru stopped short as Nyota's eyebrows rose disturbingly high on her forehead.

"You might be the hot shot in the air, but we're in a hurry and I've yet to meet anyone outside of a NASCAR track who drives better than I do, so you're sitting shotgun, flyboy. We've got a plane to catch."

The determined look in her eye worried him, and as they tore out of the parking lot and onto I-29, he learned the true definition of _like a bat out of hell_. Several times during the drive Hikaru wondered if they were approaching take off speeds, but he leaned back, tried to relax, and cranked the only radio station that he could find that was _not_ playing Christmas carols. He did not need the reminder of just how close he was cutting this.

Amazingly, they pulled into the car rental lot of the Omaha airport in what Hikaru was positive was record time. They dashed out, grabbed their bags, and Nyota tossed the keys to the startled employee at the car rental kiosk. He looked ready to question them, but Nyota cut off his inquiries with an absolute stunner of a smile and the older gentleman sat back on his chair, slightly open-mouthed, and waved at them as they ran inside.

Expertly navigating the security line, they shed their shoes and jackets and fielded the standard line of questioning—"So, where are you off to? Is this your home base?" They made it to the gate about fifteen minutes before departure and thanked their lucky stars that their gate agent was so nice. The pretty blond named Janice, whose hair was twisted into some impossibly intricate sort of pile atop her head, handed them candy canes as she tried to check them in.

"Looks like I've only got one seat left on board. Can you take the jump?" she asked Hikaru, referring to the extra jumpseat up in the cockpit that only commercial pilots, FAA officers, and other authorized observers were able to occupy. He was already digging out his badge, pilot certificate, passport, and medical authorization. She handed Nyota a boarding pass.

"We made it, Hikaru! See you back in SFO. If I don't catch you after we land, have a good Christmas, okay? It was good flying with you."

"It was good flying with you, too," Hikaru repeated dutifully, reciting the same farewell flight crew members always used with each other. Sometimes it was quite sincere and other times decidedly not, but it was expected. This time Hikaru definitely meant it. "Merry Christmas to you, too. Thank Spock for finding this flight for us, okay?"

"Will do, see you there!" Nyota hustled down the jet bridge, leaving Hikaru to watch Janice's fingers fly over the keyboard.

"Here you go," she said brightly, handing him the paperwork he needed to ride up front. Hikaru didn't need to be told twice.

"Hey guys, I'm Hikaru with Enterprise Airlines. Mind if I catch a ride …" Hikaru's practiced request to sit up front faltered when the captain of the 757 turned around and grinned at him.

"Sulu! What's up, dude? What the hell are you doing here?" Riley had been in flight school with Hikaru back in the day.

"Long story," Hikaru said wryly and handed Riley his paperwork. Riley glanced through it quickly, confirming that everything was in order.

"Excellent. Well, stow your stuff and we should be on our way in just a minute here. You know where everything is, right?" Hikaru stashed his belongings and sat down just in time to hear the annoying chime that indicated they were receiving an inbound company message.

"What do they want now?" Riley asked as the FO tore off the slip of paper and started to read.

"Ugh, stupid SFO. I swear, one cloud in the sky and the whole place shuts down."

"Flow?" Hikaru asked.

"Yeah, but only twenty minutes—that's nothing. But we've got an alternate now of SMF, which means we need to add another three thousand pounds of fuel."

Riley frowned at that and shot Hikaru a worried look. "Dude, I hate to say it, but that might push us over. We're really heavy today—lots of cargo and bags … I'll try to work the numbers."

Hikaru nodded; he understood. With the fuel they had to add in case they needed to divert because of low visibility in San Francisco, they might be too heavy to take off. If they were overweight, the first thing to go was the cockpit jumpseater. That was standard operating procedure.

To his credit, Riley tried everything he could to make the numbers work, but it just wasn't going to happen. Hikaru glanced at the computer and did the mental math—there was just no way.

"Thanks for trying, Riley. It was good to see you."

Riley gave him the apologetic smile familiar to any standby passenger who was ever kicked off due to weight issues or because a revenue passenger showed up at the last second to claim his or her seat.

"It is what it is," said Hikaru. "No hard feelings—I get it. Merry Christmas, Riley."

"You too, man. Good luck."

Hikaru grabbed his bags and made his walk of shame back off the aircraft. He held it together pretty well all the way through the airport, where he confirmed that there were absolutely no other flights that could possibly help him, and out towards baggage claim. When he arrived at the rental car counter only to find it closed with a cheerful "Closed—Merry Christmas" sign on the counter, his calm broke. Apparently the rental car guy who'd helped them a mere half an hour ago had already gone home.

He swore and punched the air. All the best laid plans of mice and men! How come it never goes smooth?

A large security officer with close cut dark hair and an intense expression began purposefully towards him and Hikaru pulled himself together quickly.

"Everything okay over here?" asked the security officer in a deceivingly benign voice.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for the scene. I have just had everything go wrong today that could possibly go wrong and I just _really_ wanted to get back home to San Francisco for Christmas. But here I am stuck in Nebraska on Christmas Eve. I just don't know what to do." Hikaru sighed, feeling like a colossal failure.

The security guard looked at him with an odd, assessing sort of stare. "I'm leaving for Vegas as soon as I get off my shift here in about," he checked his watch, "half an hour. It's not quite all the way to California, but it's closer than here. If you want to hitch a ride with us, you can."

Hikaru was desperate enough to agree without even having to think twice. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

"Sure thing. The name's Hendorff. If you want to keep an eye out for my lady, she should be here pretty soon. You can't miss her—she'll be wearing a snazzy white dress."

"You guys getting married?" asked Hikaru.

"Yup! The classiest Elvis wedding on Christmas Day you'll ever see. I've got a poinsettia boutonniere to pin onto my white, Christmas-themed Elvis wedding jumpsuit."

"That does sound … like something special," Hikaru agreed. If it meant a ride more than halfway home, he'd sit next to pretty much anyone. An hour later Hikaru began to revise that previous stance, as he was crammed in the tiny backseat of Hendorff's pickup truck with a bunch of suitcases and an Elvis suit in a dry cleaner bag watching Hendorff and his fiancée sneak kisses across the gear shift every time they passed another mile marker. Hendorff's fiancée, a tall, slender woman with a wide smile and golden skin, told Hikaru to call her Madeline and despite the freezing temperature, refused to let a coat obscure her flowing, Greek goddess inspired, one-shouldered wedding gown. They cooed sappy, saccharine sweet pet names back and forth. (It seemed that Hendorff was called Cupcake and Madeline was Honey Pie.) And to Hikaru's horror, between the two of them, they devoured almost an entire Costco size container of Sour Patch Kids that was nearly as big as Hikaru's suitcase.

Somehow, the rhythmic rumble of the road and the soft sounds of sweet nothings from the happy couple lulled him to sleep, and Hikaru woke hours later as they pulled up to the brightly lit Bellagio, with the famous fountains sparkling in a quiet trickle behind them.

"Thanks again for the ride you guys," Hikaru said, grabbing his suitcase from the pile. "And congratulations." He didn't take offense at their distracted waves; it was sweet that they were that enamored with each other, and it was even sweeter that they had been willing to let him tag along on their romantic Christmas wedding getaway.

Looking at his watch, Hikaru frowned. His watch showed 0130 Pacific Standard Time. Somehow they'd traveled 1300 miles in just over twelve hours, which seemed impossible. Was Cupcake's F-250 pick up truck equipped with some sort of fancy, scifi-style, timey-wimey warp drive type thing? Hikaru shrugged; it wasn't worth worrying about—the important thing was that he was here! Only one state away from his goal and about six hours until the sun would come up, shine through their big front windows, and wake up his boyfriend. Hikaru was adamant that Pavel not wake up alone on Christmas again. Somehow, someway, he was going to make it back.

The question was _how_. Even if he could rent a car, which was doubtful, it was nearly another ten hours back home. His grumbling stomach distracted him from his quest momentarily and he realized that he hadn't eaten anything since the Power Bar he'd been eating when they'd gotten the first warning message back on the airplane. Figuring that his best chance to find food at 1:30 in the morning on Christmas was probably here in Sin City, Hikaru wandered into the bedazzled building and looked around at the elaborate holiday displays in the opulent lobby of one of Las Vegas' finest hotels. A cheerful bellman pointed him in the direction of Café Bellagio, where he ordered a salmon sandwich, parmesan fries, and the biggest cup of coffee they had from the 24/7 menu.

As he sat drinking his coffee, nibbling on the last of his fries, and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now, a hand slammed onto his table.

"Sulu!" exclaimed the man, tall, impeccably dressed, and slightly inebriated.

Sulu squinted at the guy, trying to place him. "Oh my—Pike? Chris Pike?"

"In the flesh! How are you doing, buddy? Merry Christmas!"

"Wow, it's been, what? Ten years?"

"Yeah, about that. You were the best flight instructor I ever had! Man, those were some good times. Of course, these days I'm corporate—CEO of Star Fleet. We sell shares of …"

"Private jets. I know. That's a sweet gig. We get some of your pilots on our planes sometimes. Good for you. Weren't you just middle management back when you were getting your pilot license?"

"Yeah, but I made a couple of tough calls that paid off big. Eliminated one of our rival companies called Nero Air and made the big time. But enough about that. What brings you to Vegas for Christmas? You here with your latest man?"

"Uh, no, not exactly. I'm pretty settled these days. I have a serious boyfriend back home and this is the last place I expected to be on Christmas."

The entire ordeal came spilling out and Pike listened with rapt attention as Hikaru spoke.

"So you see, all I want is to get home for Christmas, but I don't even know where to go from here."

"Go home," said Pike. "Seriously, I've got a plane sitting at airport. Take her. I've got an on-call pilot who hates this town, doesn't celebrate Christmas, and would kill for a reason to get out of here."

"I can't possibly … I mean, it's your private corporate jet. That's just … I wish I could but ..."

"Sulu," Pike said, slapping him on the back. "I have known a lot of jackasses in my life. And in these last few years I've been hit up for favors by people I barely remember. Now you appear, one of the best damn pilots I've ever worked with, and don't ask me for a thing. You saved my sorry ass enough times up there. It's time I paid back that favor."

"Well, I think that paying for the lessons sort of paid for that already," Hikaru said wryly.

"It's my Christmas gift to you. Now get your ass out of this hotel and go home."

Hikaru grinned, a light, panicky feeling playing at his chest. Was this really happening? "I just, thank you, Pike. Seriously. Thank you so much. You've got no idea how much I … thank you!"

"Any time, kid. Here's my card. If you're ever in the market for a gig in the private sector, give me a call. There's always a place for someone like you."

Hikaru took the card and jotted down the information Pike gave him regarding where to find the plane. "She's at Henderson Executive Airport, only about fifteen minutes from here. I'd have Scotty, my driver, take you over there, but I'm pretty sure he's cleaning up at the blackjack table tonight, so we'll let him have his fun. They've got cabs just outside and I'll give Darwin a call. She'll get the plane fueled and file a flight plan for you guys. Now get out of here!"

"Thank you so much. Merry Christmas, Pike."

"Merry Christmas, Sulu."

By the time Hikaru arrived at the swanky executive airport, it was 2:30am. Despite the late hour and the holiday, there was still a poised woman waiting to greet him, verify his identity, offer him an espresso from a monstrously fancy machine, and escort him to his aircraft.

A tall, black woman with an easy smile and a gleaming, shaved head descended the stairs of the Learjet and greeted him.

"I'm Darwin. You must be Sulu. Thanks for getting me out of this dump. No offense, Ma'am. This is a lovely facility, but I'd rather be flying than sitting around."

The woman who'd escorted him out smiled brightly, used to dealing with a difficult clientele, and returned to the terminal.

"Thanks so much for the ride. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. You must have some pull to get the boss to lend you his plane."

"Not really. I knew him ten years ago. I was his flight instructor."

"Really? Where'd you instruct?"

She worked quickly as they chatted, checking the aircraft and getting them ready for departure. Soon Hikaru was ushered to the cabin, told to strap in, and Darwin was taxiing them out to the runway and launching them gracefully into the sky. Having never been in a private jet like this, Hikaru couldn't help but marvel at how posh it was. There were four armchair style seats, plus a retractable jumpseat along the bulkhead, and when he sat down in one of the plush seats it felt like he was lounging in his leather recliner back home rather than sitting on a plane. There was a refrigerator filled with snacks and drinks. Still full from his late night dinner, Hikaru grabbed a can of sparkling water and watched the neon lights of Vegas fade into a distant memory. Once they were above 10,000 feet, Darwin turned off the seat belt sign and Hikaru took that as an invitation to wander up front. They picked up their conversation right where they'd left off and carried on until she began the approach into the Bay Area, when she gave him a wry smile and told him that regulations required him to go back to the cabin and strap in for landing.

The Learjet touched down at SFO at 0416 and taxied to the general aviation area. A bored-looking hangar manager wandered over to meet them. From the crumbs all over his rumpled sweater, Hikaru assumed the man had been spending his quiet night shift snacking and watching Christmas movies. (A television inside the nearest building was paused on shot of Buddy the Elf doing the splits on the escalator.)

Darwin climbed down the stairs with Hikaru and instructed the man to take Hikaru over to the BART station at the International Terminal. Straightening up and brushing chip dust off his shirt, the man gestured for Hikaru to follow him.

"Thanks again, Darwin. I really do appreciate it."

"Any time. This was fun. I wish all my passengers were as un-annoying as you."

"Thanks and Merry Christmas."

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "I don't give a damn about it myself, but I am glad you made it home for your big day."

Hikaru grinned and chased after the man who'd started to walk away without him. The ride over to the passenger terminals, the part of the airport he was actually familiar with, took about fifteen minutes and Hikaru couldn't keep his foot from tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor of the manager's Buick.

The passenger area of the airport was deserted so early on a holiday, and the manager was able to drop him off right at the BART station just off the International Terminal. Hikaru thanked the man politely, tipped him a few dollars for his trouble, wished him a Merry Christmas, and rushed inside, his suitcase bouncing along the pavement as he yanked it up over the curb and through the doors. Pulling out his Clipper Card, he swiped it against the reader and pulled out his phone to check the train schedule. Unfortunately, due to the holiday and early morning the trains were few and far between. He pulled up Pavel's number and hesitated, finally deciding not to call yet. He hoped Pavel was still asleep, dreaming of sugarplums or whatever else it was that was supposed to fill Christmas Eve dreams.

He was the only one in the station and the nearly thirty minute wait for the 0507 train seemed interminable. When it finally appeared, he rushed on board and collapsed into one of the double seats. It was so early that he doubted there would be many seniors, pregnant women, or passengers with disabilities requiring the space. Despite his best efforts, the effects of the coffee and espresso he'd had back in Vegas were fading. He'd been up for more than 24 hours and he was exhausted. The familiar jolts of his usual commute lulled him to sleep, and he was glad that the uncomfortable feeling of pressure in his ears woke him and that he didn't sleep through his stop. The pressure and the dark tunnel meant they were underneath the Bay, which was Hikaru's least favorite part of the trip. Luckily, it also meant he was almost home and he smiled when they emerged and pulled into West Oakland station. Two stops later at 19th Street he exited the train and began the fifteen minute walk to his house.

The cool, damp air blew around his face, waking him up a little more, and the final adrenaline rush as he hit the home stretch urged him forward. Up the hill he went.

He and Pavel rented the top floor of a small duplex in Oakland. It was about an hour commute to the airport for Hikaru, but it was very close to University of California-Berkeley, where Pavel taught. There was a large front window that overlooked the street and they'd put up their Christmas tree in front of it. Hikaru loved how he could see the lights sparkling from the window from all the way down the street as he made his way home.

The sky was already starting to brighten when he reached his front door. He let himself in and lugged his suitcase up the stairs, cursing its weight and promising that he would bring less crap on his next trip. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he carefully unlocked the door. It was an older house and the door often stuck, and it usually required a good kick, but Hikaru managed to dislodge it without creating too much of a ruckus. He slipped inside, gently setting his suitcase down on a rug to muffle the sound.

The house was silent and dark save for the Christmas tree lights that cast a rainbow glow throughout the living room. Hikaru smiled at the plate of three slightly burnt cookies sitting by the window. Toeing off his black work shoes (and almost groaning at how good it felt to be out of them finally), he crossed the room and snagged one, smiling at the familiar taste of burnt sugar. Pavel burned them every year, and every year he insisted that this year would be different. After last year's frosting debacle (which had taken the two of them weeks to clean up and they'd still been finding more dried out sugar spots into April) Pavel had agreed to forgo the frosting, so this year the cookies simply had green sugar sprinkled on top.

Tiptoeing over to the adjacent bedroom where the door was ajar, Hikaru peeked in. Pavel was curled up, the heavy red quilt his grandmother had made for him pulled up under his chin. His face was flushed and his curls mussed, and Hikaru thought he was the most beautiful sight in the world.

Not wanting to wake Pavel from his peaceful sleep, Hikaru just grabbed a pair of Pavel's sweatpants that were hanging on a chair. He peeled off his uniform, which after a five day trip plus the madness of the last eighteen hours was a bit ripe. Throwing his pants, shirt, and sweater into the hamper and tossing his tie haphazardly across the chair, he pulled on Pavel's well-worn Berkeley sweatpants, which were a little short on him.

Snitching one last cookie, Hikaru curled up on the sofa, wrapping himself in a squishy blue blanket covered with big white snowflakes. Pavel had made the blanket at some crafting course; he was always trying new things, teaching himself more and more. Hikaru smiled sleepily at the memory of Pavel proudly displaying his handiwork when he'd brought this oversized fleece blanket home last year.

The first streams of daylight began teasing their way through the curtains that Hikaru had just pulled closed. Too tired to care, his eyes drifted shut and he was asleep almost immediately.

A loud crash and an excited shout of _Bozhe moi!_ woke Hikaru with a start an hour and a half later. He was still blinking and bleary-eyed when a warm body slammed into his, almost knocking the wind out of him, and he was surrounded by Pavel.

"Hey," he managed hoarsely. "Merry Christmas."

"Hikaru, Hikaru, Hikaru," mumbled Pavel, mouthing across Hikaru's neck and face, hands rapidly running up and down Hikaru's arms and torso, as if checking to make sure Hikaru had remembered to bring his entire self home. "I did not think you'd make it."

"How could I miss Christmas with you?" Hikaru asked, his stomach churning slightly at how close he'd come to failing.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Pavel grabbed Hikaru's face, tilted up his chin, and kissed him long and hard, a mind-melting kiss that was equal parts joy and relief.

"So you said you have big holiday plans for us," Hikaru said when they finally pulled apart.

"Yes!" exclaimed Pavel. "First we can make coffee and sit by the tree feeling Christmasy. Perhaps have a cookie or two before breakfast. Then we can open presents! Oh, you will love your present, Hikaru. I'm so excited to see you open it! Then breakfast! I have ingredients for a huge, fancy meal with all your favorites. After that, I think we should take a nap, because you must be quite tired and we can! It's Christmas and we can do whatever we want!"

Hikaru smiled and ran a hand lazily through Pavel's squashed curls. Whenever Pavel got excited, he spoke every sentence like it ended with an exclamation point. Yet another thing that Hikaru loved about him.

"Then in the afternoon we can make the other half of the cookies! And I will let you make the frosting this time. I saved them, because I know you like frosted cookies best. Then perhaps we can watch a movie. I have several Christmas options-- _It's a Wonderful Life_ , _White Christmas_ , or _Die Hard_."

Hikaru grinned.

"And my parents invited us over for dinner—so we can go over there and eat with my family and probably drink a lot and play games, which generally result in gameboards being tossed in the air and everyone screaming at my Uncle Ilya for being a _čórtov_ cheater. Then my mother brings out the honey Pryaniki, which is like gingerbread but far more delicious, and my father and Uncle Ilya argue whether or not to shoot off fireworks, because Illya always wants to, even though it's illegal, and father talks him out of it every year, saying _What if it falls on the little neighbor boy, Ilya? Then what? Then you hurt small children and go to jail and I would not visit such an awful brother!_ "

Pavel's voice was always deep and lilting when he imitated his father, the familiar Russian accent even stronger. It always made Hikaru smile. Then again, almost everything that Pavel did made Hikaru smile.

"But we do not _have_ to do any of these things if you do not want or if you are too tired. I know you usually want a day of nothing after a long trip." Pavel looked so concerned that Hikaru felt his heart crack in his chest.

"Pavel, all I want is you. I want to spend every second of Christmas with you. I want to drink coffee and have a big breakfast and open presents and frost cookies and watch _Die Hard_ and spend the evening with your crazy family. It all sounds wonderful and thank you for planning such a great day."

Pavel beamed and they shared a look. Then, in unison, said, "Coffee!"

Extricating himself from the fuzzy blanket, Hikaru followed Pavel into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms loosely around Pavel's hips as Pavel hummed and prepared the coffee.

"So, you must tell me. I thought you couldn't get on the flight and that that was your last shot. How did you manage to get home?"

Hikaru let out a long laugh, a little crazed and slightly disbelieving. "Pavel, love, you are never going to believe me."  


**Author's Note:**

> As a commercial flight attendant, I know the business and have written what I know. Thanks to my husband, who is a commercial pilot, for his expertise and willingness to answer my millions of questions about tiny details like runway lengths, fuel weights, and flaps fail landing procedures. And for getting out his old Aviation textbooks when I needed more information about flaps and high fiving me when I managed (after MUCH effort) to explain them in under 40 words in a way that should make sense to a novice. (He couldn't!) I have spent a ton of time making this trek as feasible as possible. There are just a couple things I fudged to make it work. All remaining errors are mine alone.


End file.
